


But of The Heart

by targaryin



Series: break the wheel [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I know this has been done probs a few times but, R Plus L Equals J, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:06:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryin/pseuds/targaryin
Summary: There's only one thing to do after finding out- telling his sisters.





	But of The Heart

Jon can’t believe he’s about to do this.

 

Standing outside of what used to be his father’s ( _uncle’s?_ ) solar, where he knows both of sisters ( _cousins?_ ) are in. He’s gonna tell them, not even an hour’s passed since he’s found out about his parentage and proposed to Daenerys. Sansa was going to explode with all the news, he was sure. Though, he couldn’t be sure how Arya would feel. That’s just even worse, he thinks, groaning at what he was about to do.

 

He feels her tighten her grasp on his left forearm, beckoning him to look at her. She looks so concerned. He can see it right in those wonderful blue ocean eyes that are asking him to tell what’s on his mind. So he does, “I can’t believe I’m doing this right now.”

 

“You have to,” she grips just a slight more tighter. “They need to know and you _need_ to tell them- it’ll eat you alive, you can’t lie for shit.”

 

Jon laughs and moves to pull her in front of him, taking her hands. “You’re right, I can’t but..” He finds himself trailing off, looking down at their leather-covered hands.

 

“But you’re scared.” She supplies, not mocking- just truthful.

 

He only nods, because he is. What else can he say about that?

 

Dany’s grip tightens and she tugs their clasped hands forward just a bit. It makes him look up at her and she’s staring at him, so softly. “It is alright to be afraid, we are only human after all but,” moving forward into his space, dropping their hands and framing his face with hers instead. “They love you and they will love you, even after you tell them everything. You are their brother, maybe not of the blood, but of the heart.”

 

When she places her hand on his chest, right over his heart, he feels lighter. How is it that they’ve known each other for a few moons, but she’s able to understand him so? This woman was incredible and she was to be his, he’ll never be able to grasp it- Targaryen heir or bastard of Winterfell, he’ll always wonder how he’s become this lucky.

 

Jon lowers his head and she leans up, already knowing. He tries to convey how much he loves her in their kiss and maybe she understands- he wouldn’t doubt it- because she returns it with so much fervor and he has to break away as to not end up dishonoring her in this drafty hallway. They lean their foreheads against each other for a moment to catch their breaths, before pulling away altogether.

 

“Do you need me to be in there? I will stay if you need me.” She looks back at the door and to him, ready to be at his side if he wished.

 

“No,” he knows she’s asking out of the goodness of her heart and he also knows there’s that part of her that wants to be there to protect him. If it was going to be how he imagined it would, he would dare not to ask her in there. She would likely get riled up at any hint of them not being agreeable. He loves that part of her, but he does not need a fight between her and Sansa, or even her and Arya. “I will be fine and when it is all over, I will come to you.”

 

Daenerys is reluctant to leave him, but when she sees he isn’t going to budge, she steps forward giving a departing kiss and then sweeps away in all of her white furs.

 

 _Alright then_ , he thinks to himself as he gives three firm knocks on the heavy wooden door, _now or never_.

 

“Enter.”

 

Opening the door, he sees Sansa sitting at the large, oak desk and Arya standing off in the corner, looking through the small window. Sansa looks up at him and gives a small smile, though she looks stressed. “Jon, we were just talking about you.”

 

He trudges forward, closing the door behind him. “Were you now?” Arya turns around as he’s walking to stand in front of Sansa.

 

“Yes,” she answers, voice laced with anger. “Those Northern idiots just can’t keep their mouths shut.”

 

“Arya,” Sansa scolds. “They are not idiots, they are just concerned.”

 

Jon frowns. “What is it now? Discord in the camps?”

 

The red-headed woman shakes her head at that, leaning forward. “No, it is you and the Dragon Queen.”

 

Her voice bites at the end and he can feel his hackles rising already. Were they really going to do this again? Fighting with Sansa over his alliance with Daenerys has become a regular thing. No matter how many times he stresses the importance of her help, she just doesn’t seem to buy it. He knows it’s because she wants to protect them and their home, but to keep bringing it up...

 

“Please don’t start, Sansa.” This is not why he came here, he needs to tell them. “There are other matters to be discussed.”

 

“ _This_ needs to be discussed, Jon,” her voice rising. “The Northern lords are unhappy with being aligned with a Targaryen queen. We cannot just ignore that, they are not sold on the idea of you two coming together on just a formal alliance.”

 

He already knows what she’s saying. They all think the worst of her and maybe him as well. Walking around camps of men you hear stories and rumors that are floating around. The most popular one being that Daenerys Targaryen, foreign invader and temptress, has seduced him for the North and Winterfell. They all had no idea.

 

Looking at Sansa now, he is sure that she has thought the same- whether she still does or not he has no idea. As for Arya, she hasn’t even hinted at thinking much of it, only that it annoyed her to no end.

 

“Daenerys has come to help us,” Jon finds himself saying for the umpteenth time. “She could’ve left us behind and went straight for CerseI, she wanted to. Until she saw the Night King,” At the mention of him, Sansa retreats a little. “Until she risked her life and the actual life of her dragon to save us from the beyond the wall, so we could show Cersei what’s coming for us all and it is coming.”

 

They grow quiet after that for a moment until Arya asks, “It’s real, isn’t it?”

 

Jon wished it wasn’t, he really did. “Yes.”

 

He thinks he can see something other than her usual cool indifference flick in her eyes, but it’s gone before he can think too much on it. If her silence is anything to go by, she believes him.

 

“You said there were other matters to be discussed.” Sansa folds her hands on the desk in front of her, looking at him expectantly.

 

There would be no easy way to say this to them. They could not want anything to do with him after all of this. If they all survive the second coming Long Night. It makes him feel heavy again and he rises to feet, needing to move. He paces in front of the fire, not meeting their eyes. It would break him again if they didn’t want to be bothered with him after this.

 

 _You are their brother_ , _maybe not of the blood, but of the heart_.

 

“Jon?” Sansa calls for him.

 

Fuck it, he thinks.

 

He stops his pacing and looks at the both of them. Sansa being worried and Arya looking at him with a frown. “I have something to tell ya, both of ya.”

 

“Tell us then.” Arya sounds impatient, but he knows that’s because he must be insufferable to watch right now, pacing and worrying.

 

Sighing, he obliges starting slowly. “Bran’s seen something and he came to me along with Sam today in the godswood.”

 

They’re both looking at him, waiting for him to continue. He looks down for a moment to realize his hands are shaking. He hopes they don’t notice.

 

“He saw my mother.”

 

Sansa visibly retracts and Arya takes a step forward. “Your mother?” Arya repeats.

 

“Yes,” And because he still can’t believe it, he takes a moment to steel himself before deciding to jump into the flames altogether. “Lyanna Stark, my mother.”

 

Wide blue eyes and equally wide grey ones stare back at him in bewilderment, then after a few beats of silence, confusion. He can understand, it sounds like some kind of joke, really. Sansa is the first one to recover, moving forward in her chair and gripping the arms of it. “Aunt Lyanna?”

 

When he nods, her eyebrows furrow and she’s shaking her head. “No, that is not-” Taking another breath, she continues. “That is not possible, Jon. What about Father?”

 

“Ned Stark is not my father.”

 

It still doesn’t feel real because who was he if not Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s bastard son? That was his whole identity, everything he faced was based on that very identity. Being underestimated, being the one black stain on Ned’s name. He was used to that and it was never even true.

 

Arya is looking at him like he has two heads, the rise and fall of her chest increasing. “Then… who is?”

 

Sansa looks at him and he knows that she knows. Who else could it be? Arya asking is just her being in a state of disbelief but he answers anyway, he knows it’ll feel more real that way.

 

“Rhaegar Targaryen.”

 

His neck snaps over at Sansa when she pulls back, her great oak chair scraping against the stone floor as she shoots up and moves past him to stand directly in front of the fire. Arya doesn’t even flinch, eyes wide and looking into nothing. They need to time to stew over it, but is there really any time? _No_ , he thinks, _there’s never enough time._ He has to say something but, he doesn't want to break the silence, it’s thick and he feels himself swallowing.

 

“Father lied.” Sansa says, her back to the both of them.

 

Yes, he did, but he had to. He _promised._ If he were in that situation and if it was Sansa or Arya on their birthing beds, dying and pleading, he’d do what Ned did in a heartbeat. So he explains to them, although he still does feel a little anger at Ned Stark- he understands.

 

“He had to,” when Arya’s eyes finally cut to him, glassy and all, he hurries. They have to understand. “Robert Baratheon was angry and felt that every Targaryen was to blame for what happened to our family. You know what happened to Elia Martell’s children, they were my sister and brother. He would not have spared me, Stark blood or not, I was still a Targaryen. Rhaegar’s son nonetheless.”

 

“Are you still a…” Arya trails off and looks down, not wanting to say it.

 

Jon huffs. “A bastard? No, I never was.”

 

Sansa turns at that, face grim. “What do you mean?”

 

“Rhaegar never took Lyanna and hurt her. That was a lie, in fact, they loved each other. Got married secretly in Dorne and everything.”

 

Sansa strides up to him and grabs ahold of his arm. “Jon, you’re king. You’re the heir and that means Daenerys has the lesser claim.”

 

Arya narrows her eyes at her sister, but doesn’t say anything just looking back at Jon. He really has to get used to her being so controlled now, normally she’d not bite her tongue. But he won’t bite his, the throne wasn’t _his_ \- it was going to be theirs together. He would never presume to take anything from her, he probably wouldn’t even be able to.

 

“No,” he grunts, jaw tense. “I would never put my claim over hers.”

 

At this, Sansa argues back. “But it is the stronger claim. It’s yours, Jon. We can’t let Cersei have it.”

 

“ _We_ are not letting her have anything but that does not mean Dany gets the short end,” He doesn’t pay any mind to the way both of them raise their eyebrows at the mention of her nickname. “All of her work was not for nothing and there will be no undermining her. If anything that is her throne but she wants to share it with me and if we do defeat the dead that is what we will do.”

 

She drops his arm and he thinks it’s in defeat, but her face is scrutinizing and he feels like he let the ball drop. “So,” making her way back around her desk, but not sitting just yet. “The two of you have discussed this and she knew before us.”

 

Jon looks at Arya for backup instead he finds that even she is looking at him with he thinks is akin to betrayal and suspicion. Of course, they would’ve wanted to know first. “Yes, we have. She found me in the godswood after I found out and we talked about it all.”

 

Arya moves to sit on the edge of the desk. “So what? You’re going to rule together, but how?”

 

He can’t help but sigh again. Will they like this? Probably not, but what could they do? No one was going to keep from her.

 

“We’ll marry and we’ll do it as soon as we can. Preferably before the dead comes knocking,” Sansa starts to speak again but he cuts her off. “Before you say anything, there will be no discussion on this. Yes, she is my aunt, I am well aware of that.”

 

Arya actually laughs at that and when they both cut their eyes at her she pauses to say. “Well, you’re more Targaryen than you think.”

 

“There is something ironic about it all.” Jon says in good humor because really what were the chance of this happening? Perhaps they were destined.

 

Sansa is gawking at the two of them, not believing they could joke like this right now. “I don’t believe this is a laughing matter,” She looks at him and he can tell she’s trying to compose herself. “Jon, if you love her-”

 

“I do.”

 

Because he does, he can’t lie about it anymore. Not to them- not to _anyone_. He doesn’t want to, lying is something tiresome.

 

“And she loves you, truly?” Arya asks, knowing that if his answer wasn’t satisfactory enough she wouldn’t approve.

 

Jon doesn’t need to think twice on it. Although, he’s still not sure why she does and how, he can feel it. “I know she does.”

 

“Good,” And he can see from the way her mouth twists upwards in the corners, she approves and not only that, she looks happy for him. “Because I knew you loved her, she’s harder to get a read on though.”

 

He sputters out an, “Excuse me?”

 

Arya only rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you serious, Jon? You get those big, love eyes when you look at her. You’re shit at hiding it, brother.”

 

 _Brother_ . _She accepts it._

 

Arya reads him easily and fixes him with a steady gaze, “You are my brother- _our_ brother that will never change. Ever.”

 

“We’re a pack, Jon. No matter what, you’re still a Stark.”

 

 _They love you and they will love you, even after you tell them everything._ How is she always right, he can’t help but ask himself.

 

Jon can’t help but smile. “Well... I do not get ‘love eyes’ at her.”

 

“You do.” Sansa pipes up, from where she’s sat again on the chair, this time leaning back and she’s looking at him like she won’t even bother putting up a fight anymore. “I guess this means I should consult with the queen about wedding plans.”

 

“What? No more fight left?”

 

Her mouth twitches and rubs her mouth in thought for a moment before replying. “It’s a good match and it seems like there’s no use to protest any longer. Plus, loveless marriages between kings and queens is a part of what destroyed this realm in the first place.”

 

As far as approval went with Sansa, that was best he could for now and it was more than enough. He reached over to grasp her hand, giving a light squeeze.

 

“Yes, no use in protesting,” Arya says with mirth swimming in her eyes, tone teasing now. “He’s totally gone for her.”

 

What was the point in arguing with that? He couldn’t. It was true, he loved her and would love her until his last days. The dead were coming and once he accepted that he would die in the battle, was even glad for it. Then, he was content with being the one to lead the fight that he would inevitably die in. Now, he had something to truly live for and he would be damned if he didn’t give the best he had when the Night King came.

 

For his family. For his home. For their people.

 

For _her_.


End file.
